


Under Ice

by another_lost_one



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Sneedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Crossover, F/F, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So Many Synonyms For Ice, Someone Help Will Graham, When I Get My Shit Together, alana will help him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one/pseuds/another_lost_one
Summary: Borne from frustration and witnessing ugliness every day, the mirror knew not much of kindness, and so rejoiced as its smallest pieces were picked up by the wind and scattered over the world, boring themselves into the eyes of people and causing them to see a fractured truth, amplifying the dominant traits of each soul they set sight on, regardless of outer beauty.Those unlucky enough to get stung into their hearts by such a piece felt it like a shard of ice, the darkness chipping away their inner self slowly and unstoppably, changing them forever.And still such pieces are roaming the winds of the world, wanting to fulfil their master’s wish and show humanity its true face.





	1. The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a little thought in my head for quite a while now, but what spurred me into action was a post on tumblr - somebody had drawn Gerda and the Little Robber Girl and the caption said something along "I always believed they should have stayed together," which were also my thoughts ever since I heard this story as a kid. (If somebody should find the post, please do link it in a comment!)  
> And of course, me being someone who lives to mash together things I love, I just had to write this! Be careful though: although I beta read for others I do not have a beta myself so there might be some mistakes.  
> I have written a few chapters already and will try to update every Tuesday/Wednesday from now on, so we'll see how this goes - both to you and me the best of luck!  
> The tags will most likely be updated, so keep an eye on that, though I will notify you in the notes if something changes - I am still not quite sure where this will lead, even though it is mostly a filled-out, newly-populated and repainted rewrite of one of my favorite fairy tales.  
> I hope you guys stick with me on this!
> 
> xxx Nicks

There once was a gifted craftsman, a maker of mirrors for the rich and wealthy, for the aristocracy and those who wished to belong to it. The mirrors, though put in intricate frames of gold, were ordinary at first glance, but in between the glass and the reflective silver, the craftsman had woven a spell - who ever looked into one of his mirrors saw themselves a little closer to their personal ideal; a little thinner, a little taller, a little more beautiful. 

The craftsman and his apprentices worked day and night to meet the demand for the magic mirrors, making the craftsman a very wealthy man. Other members of the trade guild were envious of his success, and did everything in their power to have the craftsman removed from their midst, and by the time they succeeded in their foul deed, his was craft shunned and his good reputation soiled by false accusations and sabotage.

Out of his fury and disappointment in his fellow man, the craftsman sought to make one more mirror, his last. Day and night he worked away in his shop, confounding all his apprentices, until finally he reemerged with a mirror almost as tall as two grown men. 

This one was different from his previous creations; instead of making the reflection an ideal of its origin, this mirror showed the true face of every person who looked inside, stripped the facade of each and every thing put in front of its silvery surface and showed its inner self. 

The next day, the craftsman disbanded his business and trusted his apprentices with the magic mirror, tasking them to set out into the world and show humanity its true face, and so they went. Traveling from town to town, the apprentices set up the mirror in the streets and squares, in houses and alleys, telling each passerby of the mirror’s ability, and made them take a look upon themselves. 

Some were altered only slightly, children almost always looked the same. Some were reflected beautifully, regal and shining with a golden glow, despite their often poor appearance. And some who gazed in the magic mirror, and those were in the majority, were shown a beastly image, hunched over, hands like claws, sickly and ugly, causing shock, outrage and hysteria. And then there were those whose reflection did not even resemble a human figure, so great and ugly was the disfigurement of their soul.

The apprentices soon gained a reputation, and were expected, feared even, but still welcome in every new town they visited. But as magical objects often do, the mirror itself soon grew tired of the routine it was bound to. 

So it happened that, while reflecting a particularly gruesome personality, the mirror shook so violently that it slipped from where it was propped up and smashed to the ground, shattering into pieces, some as long as a hand, others as tiny as grains of sand and dust.

Borne from frustration and witnessing ugliness every day, the mirror knew not much of kindness, and so rejoiced as its smallest pieces were picked up by the wind and scattered over the world, boring themselves into the eyes of people and causing them to see a fractured truth, amplifying the dominant traits of each soul they set sight on, regardless of outer beauty. 

Those unlucky enough to get stung into their hearts by such a piece felt it like a shard of ice, the darkness chipping away their inner self slowly and unstoppably, changing them forever.  
And still such pieces are roaming the winds of the world, wanting to fulfil their master’s wish and show humanity its true face.


	2. Splitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are white bees swarming outside.” Grandma Bloom sat next to the fire place, her hands busy with needle work, but knowing exactly what the children were doing.  
> Will and Alana turned their heads towards the old woman, knees still firmly planted on the bench in front of the window, small hands pressed against the cold glass.
> 
> “Do the white bees also have a queen?” the boy asked, because he knew that real bees did.
> 
> “They do,” Grandma Bloom replied, resting her hands on her lap for a moment and fixing the children with a conspiratory look. “She is where the swarm is the densest: she is the biggest of them all, never rests on the earth but flies up, into a dark cloud. On dark winter nights she flies through the streets of the city and looks into the windows, and under her gaze the glass freezes and forms small white flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sass. 
> 
> Sass everywhere.
> 
> xx Nicks

“Bloom! Hey, Bloom!”  
Will stood in front of Alana’s balcony, his hands cupped in front of his mouth and imitating an owl’s call, occasionally calling up the building. His dog, Winston, sat next to him, his excitement obvious only by the furious tail-wagging and subsequent dust-rising in the little street. The roses in the Bloom and Graham yards already considered complaining.

“She’ll be right there, Will, you can stop your mating calls.” Will turned around, blush turning his face a pinkish hue even though he knew immediately who had come up behind him, silently despite her age. Grandma Bloom leaned heavily on her walking cane, but her face wore the expression of a mischievous toddler. The late summer breeze brushed through their hair, long white braids and wild brown curls, as they stood at the yard gate. Winston rushed to her and pushed his nose into her hand, gently, and was rewarded with a few scratches behind his ear.

“Grandma Bloom, you know that I love Alana.” The old woman closed her eyes and nodded, knowing, and obviously satisfied. Will let her enjoy it before he continued: “I love her like a sister.” Winston barked at that, in sync with Grandma clicking her tongue in displeasure. Will couldn’t hold back his laughter at the display.

“Now, now!” Grandma Bloom swung her cane half-heartedly at the laughing youngster, just as Alana descended the stairs to witness the scene.  
“Grandma! Don’t you dare harm my sweet William!” Alana rushed towards her friend, taking the still wheezing Will into her arms, in a mock-embrace. “Who might wed me if you kill him?”

“You children are unbelievable.” Grandma Bloom shook her head, still displeased but looking fondly at her granddaughter and her friend wiping tears of laughter from the corners of their eyes. “Don’t know what you’ve got.” Still grumbling, she made her way to the house, her long skirts rustling with every step.

“We’re not really children anymore, Grandma Bloom.”

“That’s really not an argument in your favor, sweet William!” The old woman turned on the doorstep to look at Will, the twinkle in her eye betraying her amusement. “But I keep the right to call you children as long as you behave like such. Now, did you call my granddaughter downstairs to defend you from me or did you have something else in mind?”  
With that, Grandma Bloom turned and disappeared through the door frame and into the coolness of the house.

“She certainly knows how to stir the pot, doesn’t she?” Alana smiled and shook her head before looking at Will expectantly. “Well? What are you up to that you need me for?”  
“Can’t I just call on my oldest, most bestest friend, just for the pleasure of your company?” Will lowered his head and looked at Alana with his eyebrows raised, lashes fluttering in his best attempt at doe eyes he could muster. It drew a laugh from Alana, but also earned him a fist to the shoulder.

“Your grammar is appalling, and your puppy face doesn’t work on me.”  
“Okay, fine,” Will admitted with one hand raised, the other rubbing his targeted shoulder, “Winston wanted you to join us on today’s walk.” Alana raised her eyebrows.  
“And,” Will continued, a grin spreading on his face, “dad got me the newest edition of Crime Magazine that I knew you would kill me if I didn’t show you immediately.”

“Yes!” Alana all but jumped on the spot when Will pulled the glossy pages out of his backpack, snatching it out of his hands right away. “Oh, how I love you sometimes!”  
“Like a brother?” Will laughed, then had to avoid getting hit by a rolled up magazine which came dangerously close to his nose. 

He whistled for Winston, who had gone sniffing around in one of the many rose bushes around Alana’s house. Her family preferred the red ones, while the Grahams favoured the yellow kind, but it was the roses that had brought them together at all. Bill Graham had purchased the house mostly because of its vast backyard, to grant his son some peace after the constant moving around, and to give him the opportunity to spend his childhood in one place, preferably playing outside. 

That their backyard was connected to their neighbour’s by a small gate was a blessing, really. Grandma Bloom was happy to let her granddaughter play with a peer, and the children soon developed a profound friendship; going from picture books to editions of Crime Magazine, all the while tending to their shared rose garden and growing the most beautiful roses in their neighborhood.

“If I have to, I will solve this month’s case without you, Will Graham!” Alana called over her shoulder, threatening. Will hadn’t noticed her getting ahead this much, waiting for Winston to finish his investigation.  
“Coming!” he called back, and then all three of them were running, their destination clear with no question asked: the apple orchards.

*

“There are white bees swarming outside.” Grandma Bloom sat next to the fire place, her hands busy with needle work, but knowing exactly what the children were doing.  
Will and Alana turned their heads towards the old woman, knees still firmly planted on the bench in front of the window, small hands pressed against the cold glass.

“Do the white bees also have a queen?” the boy asked, because he knew that real bees did.

“They do,” Grandma Bloom replied, resting her hands on her lap for a moment and fixing the children with a conspiratory look. “She is where the swarm is the densest: she is the biggest of them all, never rests on the earth but flies up, into a dark cloud. On dark winter nights she flies through the streets of the city and looks into the windows, and under her gaze the glass freezes and forms small white flowers.”

Will nodded his curly head. “I saw flowers like that on my window.”  
“Me too!” Alana chimed in. “Do you think the Snow Queen could come here, to us?”  
“Let her try!” Will declared with a jump from the bench. “I would catch her and put her on the oven, and she would melt!” 

Grandma Bloom smiled at the eight year old’s bravery, but decided that the whole story was to be told another time.

Later that evening, when Will was home and ready for bed, he climbed onto his own chair in front of the window to take a look at the white bees once more. The snow was falling peacefully and the soft orange lamplight made the street look like a dream. 

One of the snowflakes got caught on the windowsill, just in front of the boy, and began to grow. It got bigger and bigger, until it transformed into a woman, dressed in a gown made of a million twinkling snow stars. She was beautiful, magical, and made entirely of ice - but still, she was alive. 

Her eyes glistened like the moonlight, and looked around interested, never resting. She finally looked at Will, lifted one delicate hand and waved, before slipping off the windowsill gracefully and disappearing into the night. 

Will looked on, not sure if he was already dreaming or not, and was able to make out two sleds, the bigger pulling the smaller one along, through the streets and out of Will’s sight.  
The next morning, the wind turned warmer and brought with it the first hints of spring, and news of the disappearance of a boy from the neighboring town.

*

“Applesauce?” Will sniggered. “That’s a great name for a dog.”

“I know. I really hope you can have one there, it would be nice to have a friend.”Alana shifted on the patch of grass they were laying on, hiding from the summer sun in the shade of the orchard. 

The new magazine issue already had several marked pages and underlined passages in it, and was now serving as a quite impractical pillow for Will’s head. This month’s reader competition was solving a case where the victim was found strung up in a tree, hollowed out and filled with flowers, only using the provided lab results available after processing, and a list of ten likely suspects. Together, the friends had narrowed that list down to four; Alana had pointed out how unrealistic this case was, and Will said he could appreciate the message which had started a whole discussion on the ethics of aesthetics. 

Finally, they had abandoned that as well, much rather discussing Will’s wish to move to the city soon: instead of fan contests, he wanted to solve actual cases like the tree man. Although he doubted he would have the time to take care of a dog along with his studies. Will sighed.

One or two yellowing leaves in the trees overhead announced the end of summer and the upcoming harvest season. Will and Alana would be picking apples here in a few week’s time. 

“Do you know what I remembered again the other day? They never found that boy, did they?” Alana leaned on up on her elbow, her dark hair spilling down onto the grass. The breeze picked up and blew some leaves and fluff in it. 

Will sat up and plucked a particularly crunchy piece out of Alana’s hair. Winston’s ears twitched at the sound, but since he couldn’t smell anything interesting, he did not bother opening his eyes the slightest.

“Why did you remember that?” Will asked absently. He knew instantly what she meant; their town, as well as the neighboring ones, were quiet, rarely changing and very familiar. The stories of major criminal activities and odd occurrences limited themselves to the shadier parts of bigger towns and places known to be odd by themselves. 

It was uncommon for anything out of the ordinary to happen here, which is why the disappearance was still standing out starkly, even after almost a decade had passed since. It had not crossed Will’s mind much since his parents stopped warning him to come home when the streetlights turned on and his interest in such things peaked. 

“And he wasn’t really a boy, he was as old as you now.” He threw a challenging look at Alana, expecting her answer. To his surprise, she just shrugged.

“Seventeen is still young, although you, kind sir, are definitely too old to talk to me.” Alana grinned charmingly up to Will, who stuck his tongue out in response.  
“Yeah, sure, my eighteen winters have granted me wisdom beyond measure.” 

The sudden rush of wind swallowed Alana’s groaned reply, but Will’s pained ghasp made her sit up instantly. Will was clutching his chest right above the heart, doubled over and breathing heavily, eyes staring into the space in front of him, unblinking. Winston had abandoned his spot in the sun and was now hovering close to the pair, ears and tail pointing upwards, letting out quiet whines with each of Will’s audible gasps.

“Will, what is it?” Alana put her hand carefully on his shoulder, not wanting to startle her friend but growing more and more concerned by the second. 

“Will?”

Finally, Will snapped out of his episode, his breathing still uneven but slowly unclenching his hand from his chest. “It was like there was something stabbing me in the heart.” He shook his head. His eyes snapped to Alana’s face, finding a concerned expression mirroring his own. 

“I didn’t just have a heart attack, did I?” The corners of his mouth twitched up but it didn’t reach his eyes, his smile more like a grimace.

“I… Unlikely, but I couldn’t say,” Alana shifted to her knees right in front of Will’s still hunched-over form. Winston finally came closer and Will reached out his hand to pet his head, not wanting to upset the perceptive dog too much. 

Alana was studying his face, her hand still resting on Will’s shoulder, the worry apparent in the small waves that had formed between her brows. Small strands of hair were swirling around her head in the breeze that had now begun to blow in earnest, the fluffy clouds traveling faster across the sky. 

Will huffed. “I’m fine now, Alana. I promise.”

He turned to look at her, planning to assure her with a grin, but it once again turned sour with pain and surprise, his eyes snapping shut as he let out a cry. “Shit!”

“Your heart?” Alana pressed her other hand against Will’s chest, now feeling outright panic rising like a punch in her gut, already calculating how long it would take her to run and get some help. Winston let out a high yip, up on his paws, as if telling her to count him in.

“No,” Will pressed through his teeth. He pointed at the right side of his face“Something must’ve fallen into my eye. Can you take a look?”

“Sure.” Will tilted his head back and blinked rapidly, each time opening his eyes a bit more in order to let his friend check for what he hoped was just a bit of dust, shuddering at the thought of an insect in his eye. Alana had taken his head in her hands, up on her knees above his face and carefully wiping at the tears flowing down Will’s cheek.

“I can’t see anything,” she finally said. “It must’ve fallen out.”

“Good.” Will closed his eyes to wipe at his face with his own hand before standing up and whistling Winston to heel. He turned around to pick up his magazine, all while Alana looked up at him with her guard up, as if expecting another episode. When Will noticed her concerned look his mouth turned down in distaste.

“Stop looking at me like that. I told you I was fine.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should have someone check on your heart and -”

“Alana, it’s fine.” Will spoke quietly, but there was a chill in his voice that made Alana shrink into herself. The sun had hid behind one of the passing clouds and the wind was becoming uncomfortable despite the earlier warmth. 

“You know what I think?” Will spoke as if nothing had interrupted their earlier conversation. “That boy never stood a chance. He probably died that night and got buried under the snow in some ditch. That’s why they never found him. It’s not a tragic lost boy story but a simple case of a stupid idiot with bad luck.” Alana stared at him, her mouth had fallen open at the icy tone of Will’s words. Her expression amused Will somehow and he felt a cruel grin spread over his face.

“Come on, Winston. We’re going home.” With that, he turned and left Alana dumbfounded where she sat in the midst of the rows of apple trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't they just live their idyllic, apple picking life?
> 
> But where would be the fun in that...


	3. Skating Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since his arrival, Hannibal had been promised the same bliss of absolute control and he had been making remarkable progress; so much even, that the Queen had not yet grown bored of him, even after almost a decade.
> 
> She had told him, in the beginning, of predecessors she had turned into reindeer or ice sculptures because they had proven unworthy of her gifts, which had first scared him into obedience but then made him more interested in the kind of power she held to be able to do such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Alana gets very angry at Will who is being an ass, and we get introduced to a new face.
> 
> xx Nicks

“It is time, Your Grace.” Hannibal bowed his head low, as was expected of him, when cold blue eyes turned in his direction. “Your sled awaits.” 

It was close to the end of October, and high time for winter to make its way into the South. It followed the Snow Queen and would grow where she planted it, producing storms and winds and covering the land in a layer of ice. Every year she set out to make her rounds, and for the last nine Hannibal had piled the furrs, brushed the deer and polished her sled until it was reflecting the cold, distant rays of sun that stole through the ice flower covered windows. 

“Already,” the Snow Queen breathed, neither statement nor question, her breath invisible despite the perpetual cold of her palace. It had been centuries since she had felt anything but varying degrees of amusement and distaste, and the occasional prick of spite, nothing capable of stirring up real emotion anymore. 

Ever since his arrival, Hannibal had been promised the same bliss of absolute control and he had been making remarkable progress; so much even, that the Queen had not yet grown bored of him, even after almost a decade. She had told him, in the beginning, of predecessors she had turned into reindeer or ice sculptures because they had proven unworthy of her gifts, which had first scared him into obedience but then made him more interested in the kind of power she held to be able to do such things.

The Queen rose from her throne in a fluid motion, snapping her fingers, only to have a diadem made entirely out of mountain crystals materialize in her hand. She turned to Hannibal.

“My coat, if you would.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Under the Queen’s mildly interested gaze, Hannibal too extended his hand and snapped his fingers, reaching inside for that now familiar spark of magic. A fraction of a second after he had seen the Queen’s travel coat in his mind’s eye, he was holding it open for her to slip her arms into the opulent sleeves. Hannibal couldn’t help but let his lips curl upward when the Queen turned her back to him, rather not displaying his satisfaction in front of her.

“Well done.” The Snow Queen regarded Hannibal with her version of an affectionate expression, with eyes half closed and the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. The massive diadem looked heavy on her blonde head and made her neck appear very fragile. Hannibal would’ve loved to snap it. Instead, he pasted the same expression on his features and nodded once. Not yet.

She reached towards him and he offered his arm to accompany her to the gates. They walked in measured steps over the frozen lake under her throne, through the vast and icy halls of the palace, until they reached the front gate in complete silence, save for the wind whose ever-howling presence had become Hannibal’s source of calm.

“I considered taking you with me this time,” the Queen breathed, not looking at Hannibal but staring at the sled, covered in warm furrs and pulled by two reindeer adorned with silver bells. Hannibal did not allow his interest to show on his features, knowing it would do no good, as the Queen continued. “But I have not forgotten your disobedience regarding the Looking Glass.”

She turned to him this time, granting him a rare look into her eyes, unobstructed by pale lashes, fully focused in a cruel flash of icy blue.

Hannibal did not look away; to lower his head would be a false admission of defeat and he had learned early that bootlicking was the best way to quickly lose his life.

“However,” the Queen sighed, momentarily changing back into her calm demeanor, “I will bring you a new toy when I get back. Maybe,” she shot him an amused glance, “you finally manage to complete the puzzle I gave you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Hannibal inclined his head slightly, watching her step out in the open, as frozen stairs grew from the ground helping the Queen into the elevated sled.  
Once seated in between the heaps of rich furr, she snapped the reigns sharply and took off, almost flying across the snowy landscape and melting into the whiteness.

Hannibal stayed at the gate a while longer, watching the wind pick up particles of the fresh snow and whirl it around like small waves, the crystals catching the sun and reflecting it back in flashes. The cold had stopped being more than a faint sensation after his fourth year as the Queen’s unwilling guest at the palace, just around the time she had granted him access to her vast library of books and scrolls. 

Until then, he had spent his days shivering and blue despite the various layers of clothes he threw on himself. Now, dressed in simple but sharp cut trousers and a white shirt, the only items that resembled any source of warmth were his boots and a the waistcoat which clung snugly to his torso, both lined with fur - although he wore them out of vanity rather than necessity.

Hannibal sighed. The Queen would be gone for a while, yet he was still inclined to try and complete her assignment to him before pursuing his other ‘activities’. Making his way to one of the wide staircases, he recalled his progress since last time, putting together the pieces in his mind. 

The puzzle had been occupying his thoughts for several weeks now, not only because the Queen had crafted it herself and specifically for him, using some of the previous, disappointing companions she had chosen and discarded in her vast maze of ice sculptures over the years. It was gestures like these, Hannibal thought, that proved the favor in which the Ice Queen held him, for now at least. He would do good not to disappoint her, lest he would join his disassembled predecessors.

After crossing the cold hallways of the upper wing, he finally arrived in the elevated corridor which, standing on thick icicles and opening to a wide arch, led to the highest part of the Queen’s aerial garden landscape. From there it was only a quick sprint to the clearing where various frosty body parts awaited Hannibal’s arrival.

The sky was a piercing blue that day, and the sun reflected off the glazed arms, faces and drapery - the puzzle pieces the Queen had left him. He had already arranged several pieces that he suspected belonged together, and succeeded in attaching a few faces and torsos mostly, however the predominant lack of color as an indicator, in addition to Hannibal having no clue as to what he was assembling was not making it exactly easier. 

He approached one of the unassigned piles and picked up a piece - an arm, stretched out like a dancer’s, with its fingers artfully reaching for something unknown - and tried it against a few shoulders until he found one that fit, a long piece that continued into a collarbone and part of a neck, bare and most likely male. On the other side, just before the sharp angle where the figure had been shattered, was the hint of a shoulder blade, with a curious addition to it. Hannibal ran a finger over the protruding nub’s jagged edge; unnatural anatomy for a human, perhaps a wing?

His eyes lit up; this could be a clue to the puzzle’s motive, and Hannibal’s newfound enthusiasm had a slight grin spreading over his features. Shedding his waistcoat and folding it neatly onto a nearby bench, he dove into the puzzle.

*

Winter had moved into the landscape. It had started slowly, with frost covering the blades of grass in the morning and fog rolling over the hills in the evening. Last night, the wind had changed directions and brought with it the grey clouds that now covered the sky, heralding the first snow of the season.

It had been the first year since ever that Alana had put up the window decorations without Will. In the fall, she had picked the apples in the orchard without Will. She had sampled the pies and bottled the cider without Will. She had even solved two editions of their favorite magazine by herself, and found it so unfulfilling that she stopped reading it altogether. 

If she was honest to herself, it seemed like she had gone through at least four stages of grief, because it did feel like a loss. Since that afternoon in the orchard everything had changed - Will had changed. There was no other way to describe it, other than made a one hundred and eighty degree personality turn. Alana couldn’t make a rhyme of it, it felt like she never knew her childhood friend at all.

It started with little things; Will would pick her up as usual, but the warmth from their interactions was gone. He had taken up picking apart the people that they met on their walks with Winston, noticing their faults, flaws and everything else they would rather keep unknown, all from a glance and followed my a mocking sneer. 

Alana listened and was always left horrified by Will’s findings about their neighbors and friends. After a while, it had spread onto their families, with Will turning each member into an outright parody of themselves in his analysis, nevertheless sharp and correct but extremely disrespectful and cruel; and the fact that he started presenting his findings to others bordered on mean-spirited. 

She started avoiding him, and even though it pained her to do so Alana had to admit how her affections towards her best friend declined by the day.

Will’s new demeanor attracted a new kind of crowd. Never one for much socializing, it was odd to see him suddenly surrounded by people. Boys his age, of the kind that would better be avoided, started following him around and taking his word as homily - both Alana and Grandma Bloom had at some point given up shaking their heads at the kind of crowd Will had chosen. Although they occasionally shook their fists when they caught them throwing stones or ripping through the rose gardens. 

More often than not Alana would find Winston on her side of the garden gate, as if even the dog shared Alana’s opinion about Will’s changed behavior and, like her, preferred to stay out of it entirely. 

On this particular morning, Alana was woken by a loud thud against her window. It took some time for her eyes to get used to the light, the brightness being almost unnatural, until she discovered why: snow had fallen overnight, like a thick blanket covering the roofs and gardens of the neighborhood, and reflecting the winter sun like a prism. 

The look out the window also revealed the source of the sound that had woken her - Will stood in her yard, throwing snowballs at her window and calling for her.

“Bloom, you coming?”

“Where? For what?” The cold air stung in her nostrils and had her wide awake instantly. She gathered the edges of her blanket closer around her shoulders, up to her neck. 

“The cars couldn’t get through today so they delivered the groceries to the shop on sleds - we can catch a ride!” Will held up his hand holding a rope bound to his own wooden sled, the one they used to glide down the hill behind the park together last year. His grin reminded Alana of his old self, so much that it took a few moments for her to realize Will was waiting for an answer.

“Oh,” she said, forehead creasing as she thought it through, “won’t we be in the way of the delivery?” 

“Seriously?” Will’s hand dropped suddenly, together with his grin. 

“Well, it sounds a little reckless, and dangerous, and…”  
“You know what,” Will interrupted her icily, “stay home. If you’re going to be a negative nancy I don’t even want you to come.”

With that he turned on his heel and marched off, towards the square. Alana followed him with her eyes, and she could feel the anger rushing her blood into her face. With a sudden turn she slammed the window shut and went on to dress herself. 

“Stupid idiot Will Graham,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled on her winter boots, “I am going to kill him.” Boots were followed by her coat, a woolen hat and warm mittens.  
“I’m going out,” she shouted into the house, before stepping outside and slamming the door as well.

The negativity of the last few weeks had apparently piled up enough to keep her warm as she stomped after Will, with only her nose reminding her of the temperature outside. In her head, Alana went over the things she wanted to fling at Will’s head, accusations and arguments validating her fury, promising herself she would not cry, not in front of Will.

By the time she had reached the square, she was ready to tear him to pieces as a payback for his behavior towards her and towards Grandma Bloom. Alana found Will, blissfully unaware of the impending storm, standing off the side of the road opposite of the grocery store’s delivery entry where a huge sled took up most of the road. Two boys kept him company and regarded Alana with a scoff as she approached them. Will turned slowly and raised his eyebrows.

“Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to you,” she spat and turned around, hoping through the wolf whistles she heard behind her that Will would follow into an alley close by.  
“Well?” Will positioned himself casually, the rope bound to his sled disappearing into one of his coat pockets together with his hands. “Shoot, Alana.”

“Oh, I will,” Alana trembled, the exact opposite of Will’s apparent calm. “First of all, as someone who my whole life I have called a brother, I am a little pissed at you at the moment. And by a little I mean a lot.” She stopped pacing and shot a look at Will’s aloof expression. “Second of all, how dare you? How dare you going through your life like this, discarding everyone who ever cared about you? Have you any idea what you’re doing? Even Winston doesn’t want to spend time with you any more, and he loves you, Will, and it’s killing him!” 

Will’s eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead, his lack of reaction enraging Alana even more as she took a step forward. “What’s gotten into you, being like this? Talk to me, please!” Exasperated, she shrugged with the whole length of her arms, letting them fall at her sides. Silence fell over them, broken only occasionally by children shouting and laughing on the streets nearby, until Will finally sighed.

“You know, it’s blatantly obvious that you rehearsed the majority of this little speech on your way here, Alana,” Will said calmly while inspecting the rope he was holding. “Why are you so angry?” he asked suddenly, looking up and studying her face, “Is it because without me, you have no one to play house with? Oh-,” he tutted at the breath Alan took in, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips again, “don’t concern yourself with what I am doing, dear Alana. I am fine. But what,” he stepped closer with each word, until he was right in front of her, “what are you doing?”

His eyes glistened like ice against the cold winter sky, even in the shadow of the alley, and despite her best efforts, Alana found tears gathering in her lashes and dripping onto her cheeks. This wasn’t the plan.

Through the blur, she thought she saw something akin to regret flicker in Will’s face - just for moment, faint but still there. Then it was gone, Will blinking rapidly and leaning away, taking a reserved step back and regarding Alana’s trembling frame with a neutral expression once more.

“Goodbye, Alana,” he said, and as he turned and walked away, it felt like a definite. 

Alana stood motionless, unable to move a limb. What had just happened? She felt crushed, left flat and defeated under the sledgehammer of Will’s scrutiny. He had seen right through her, perceptive as ever and yet - never had he been so cruel; not in his biweekly analyses of glossy paper murder suspects, not even to the folks calling him odd, and never to Alana.

Her breath escaped shakily and formed a white cloud above her head as she made her way over the tracks of Will’s sled, back to the town square. This must be ‘acceptance’, she thought, even though it felt more like defeat than anything else, really. Not bothered by the clamor of the children riding their sleds and tying them to the larger ones pulled by horses, or even the sludge that sprayed her every time someone slid past, Alana only wanted to go home.

It wasn’t until she heard someone shout “Watch out!” that she looked up from her boots and moved away on instinct, just in time to avoid a large red sled rushing past her and brushing against the house where she had just been, before continuing its race down the street, the driver snapping the reigns and spurning the animals on. Alana had no time to react, standing frozen in place, only her heart thundering in her chest - this could’ve ended badly.

It seemed like no one had noticed the almost-accident, people rushing past her on sleds and by foot, trying to complete their chores and flee back into the warmth of their homes. Alana took a deep breath and flexed her fingers to try and banish the stiffness she felt in her limbs. Her eyes snapped to the source of the sound that had saved her, just across from where she stood, on the other side of the street. 

There, half kneeling on his sled already but with an arm stretched out as if wanting to reach her, was Will, eyes wide and chest heaving. Alana pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. Just then, Will swayed and gave a shout, clutching at the edge of his sled as it suddenly moved, almost falling off in surprise. 

He had tied his sled to the larger one in front of him which had started to move suddenly. At the crack of a whip, the animals pulling the sled accelerated, pulling their load and Will’s small one with them, towards the massive arch marking the town’s entrance.

Alana watched as Will scrambled to get hold of the slippery wooden frame, or the rope tied to the front and sighed a breath of relief when he finally did. But they were moving too fast - she could see it, the small sled wobbling left and right, had the driver not noticed Will? The speed at which they passed the arch suggested they hadn’t, with Will nearly crashing into one of the sides before straightening behind the larger sled.

“Will!” 

With a jump, Alana rushed after them, sprinting the short distance to the arch and watching in horror as they picked up an impossible tempo, taking her friend with them over the blinding white landscape. They passed over a hill, only visible as a cloud of fresh snow swirled up behind them, before disappearing entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal makes an appearance! And now I already miss him...


	4. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like they had been going on forever, the snowflakes seemed to grow until they resembled fat white hens, fluttering past his face and missing him just so. Sometimes his sled would jump, as if he passed a root or stone in the ground, which made him wonder where exactly he would end up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I did not hold the schedule as promised - summer is a busy, busy time and my life is even more chaotic than ususal, so that's that. 
> 
> xx

Will shook terribly on his sled. His hands were stiff, his fingers clumsy enough form the cold that it seemed that every time he tried to untie the rope bound to the wire holding the wooden frame together, the big sled would increase their speed, nearly throwing him off. 

Snow had started falling a while ago, adding to the flurry of white spraying from the sides of the big sled as they cut through the icy underground. It had gotten increasingly worse, developing into a fully fledged snow storm and now Will could not see the tip of his nose anymore, let alone hope that the person driving the sled in front of him would notice him. He had long given up shouting for them to stop, and now all he could do was hold on for dear life.

It felt like they had been going on forever, the snowflakes seemed to grow until they resembled fat white hens, fluttering past his face and missing him just so. Sometimes his sled would jump, as if he passed a root or stone in the ground, which made him wonder where exactly he would end up. 

Will had taken to leaning his upper body almost flat on the sled, trying to shield himself from the masses of snow and the wind that howled around his ears and prickled his chin, but that made it impossible for him to take in his surroundings. Not that it made such a difference really, with visibility being equal to zero. 

He must have fallen asleep like this because when he opened his eyes after what seemed like an eternity, the storm had passed, the wind was not howling any more and the sled was standing still. 

Will blinked against the brightness reflecting off the snow and shook off the ice crystals encrusting his gloves, hat and arms. Squinting slightly, he noticed they had stopped on a hill; he could make out the horizon behind endless planes of snowy white, and nothing more.

A chuckle, tinkling softly through the air, had him stop in his tracks. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the edge of the big sled’s back piece, over the intricate carvings in the white polished wood, over the warm looking fur that peaked over the edge and seemed to drape from the shoulders of the woman looking back at him. 

Her appearance seemed absolutely undisturbed by the speed they had been traveling just moments earlier; the diadem on her head sat perfectly and glistened when she moved to stand up on the sled, her hair underneath was exquisitely coiffed and curled around her beautiful face, which bore a faint smile that did not reach her eyes. 

“Now, wasn’t this a fun ride?” Her voice reached Will like in a trance, barely louder than a breath yet still crisp and sharp at the edges. Her eyes regarded his still frozen figure, as if assessing the state he was in, checking for damage or imperfections. Finding none but Will’s inability to produce a sound, she extended an arm in invitation. “You look cold. Why don’t you join me up here, young man.”

The words seemed to have a magical effect on Will, who at once stood and walked over to the sled on shaky legs, climbing inside awkwardly. The woman immediately lifted one corner of the large and warm-looking blanket covering her knees, and Will took the invitation to sit beside her without a second thought. 

“A drink, perhaps?” Not waiting for Will to answer, the woman in white reached into the air and produced a steaming cup with no more than a blink, handing it to Will. Even more perplexed than he was a moment ago, Will could do little more than take her offering between his numb fingers. 

His gloves let in just a fraction of the mug’s actual temperature, so he took them off quickly and set them aside, sighing when the warmth reached his frozen digits unobstructed. The drink inside the cup smelled divine, and by taking a careful sip, Will discovered it was hot chocolate, by far the best he ever tried. 

He looked up and found the woman watching him attentively.

“You are the Snow Queen,” Will said, knowing he was right somehow, as if recognizing a person he once knew. He took another sip of his hot chocolate, watching as the Queen tilted her head just slightly to the side, seemingly pleased.

“Are you scared?” she asked him with that airy voice, her eyes tightening only so much when Will shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I know you will not hurt me. Somehow,” he added, as a shiver shook through his body. The cold had settled in his bones, the cup in his hands too weak a source of warmth.

“Somehow,” the Queen repeated, sounding amused. Leaning over to the boy, she removed one glove and touched Will’s cheek with only her bare fingertips. “Are you still cold?”

The moment their skin made contact, Will shook once again, but this time the cold reached all the way to his heart like a needle, making him gasp in pain. He felt like he would die right there, face twisted in a mask of agony, but then - as sudden as it had come - the cold receded, and he felt numb instead. 

Confused, he looked up to the Queen who had reclined back and pulled on her glove again. Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she almost smirked. “Well?”

Not trusting his voice this time, Will retreated back into his silence and just shook his head. He really was feeling less frozen, although still a little stiff.

“Now,” the Queen said, taking the reins in hand and snapping them in the air with a harsh sound, “why don’t you tell me about yourself, Will?”   
At once, the reindeer pulling her sled resumed their tempo from earlier and Will was pressed between the folds of the furry blanket by their forced start. It was nice, almost like sinking into a layer of fresh snow, and he felt warm despite the wind once again biting at his face and carrying one or two snowflakes in their direction. The Queen looked ahead and held the reins tightly in both hands, but Will felt her attention on him like a weight.

Adjusting his hat over his ears, more out of habit than necessity really, Will started to speak. 

He told the Queen everything; about his roses and his dog, about his wish to work in the City, the score he kept with Alana about who solved the most magazine crimes first, about the afternoons and evenings he’d spent at Grandma Bloom’s house when his father had to work late. All the while, the Queen’s lips were fixed in a barely-there smile, and she nodded along with his story, as if finding it immensely interesting and fascinating. 

Will however, felt like each word drained him of a well deep inside, until finally he finished because there was no more to tell. He felt exhausted, blinking sleepily against the darkening sky until he was quite sure he had fallen asleep, because it looked like the clouds had descended down and around them, taking the stars with them and making them burn closer and bigger than it was supposed to be possible.

In his dreams, he saw a vision of his bedroom, and a figure sitting on his windowsill, bathed in moonlight and stardust. The Queen looked over her shoulder and waved, just like she did all those years ago, but this time Will took the hand she offered him and climbed out the window into the night.

*

Winter passed. The first flowers were heralding the arrival of spring, stretching their shy petals towards the ever warmer shining sun and dotting the landscape with lovely shades of purple and yellow. The snow had melted away and the river had grown strong, carrying the water down the mountain and further south, towards the sea.

Grandma Bloom was taking care of the roses, preparing them to blossom as soon as they were ready, and for the first time in many years, she was doing it alone. Alana could not bring herself to even look at the garden since it became clear that Will would most likely not come back. Her grief was only matched by that of Mr Graham; since his son disappeared, he had barely spoken a word, turning into a shell of the man he was before.

Will’s disappearance was the talk of the town. The last time people saw him, he was tying his sled to the back of some stranger’s bigger one and was whisked away, through the streets and out of town. What happened from there, nobody was quite sure. 

Many were convinced he lost his grip and fell off, breaking his neck and dying in a ditch. Others swore they saw him walking onto the frozen river and falling through the ice. And even though no one knew exactly how, everybody was sure that Will Graham was dead. It was a tragedy, felt by everyone in the small town, making the winter even more cold, dark and lonely.

Alana had closed in on herself, mourning her best friend in heavy silence, despite their last ugly conversation. Nothing brought her joy anymore, as everything reminded her of Will; the things they would do together, the corny jokes they would crack at each other, the mighty secrets and revelations they shared. But she distracted herself, had to, so she wouldn’t break down entirely. She attended class, did her readings, breathed, said hello to the people on the streets, took care of Winston, continued breathing. 

Only the roses she couldn’t bear to look at anymore, and she dreaded the moment the now still tiny buds would open up and show off their beautiful colors.

Since the snow had almost entirely melted away, Alana could take Winston on further and further walks: past the hill behind their house, past the orchard and the old farmhouse with the red barn gate, all the way into the woods and to the river, Will’s favorite place. 

Sometimes they would take the road out of the arched entry into the town, where Will was last seen, circling further out each time. From every walk, Alana came back feeling disappointed and frustrated: she knew that looking for Will made no sense, and it might be actually worse to find him than not to.

Today they had gone to the river again. Winston was sniffing around in the shrubbery while Alana sat still near the water, listening to the rushing of the stream making its way south. It was as close to meditation as Alana had let her ever-analyzing mind come; the sound of water hurried over the rocky riverbed and drowned out the terrible thoughts in her head, and she understood why Will loved this place so much. 

There were pieces of ice still floating past her on the water, even though the snow was already melted here; the river ran from the mountains, where spring still had not sent its warm regards, and snow still held its icy grasp over the land. Almost invisible between the green leaves and flower petals that now graced the surface, the chips of ice were like translucent waves, trapped in time and holding the shape of a moment long passed or yet to come.

Alana’s eyes passively registered the movement in front of her, but she paid not much attention, rather enjoying these moments of emptiness, so she almost missed it completely when something that was not supposed to be there hurried by on a particularly large piece of ice.

It was a glove.

Alana recognized it in an instant, jumping up from the roots she had been sitting on as if on autopilot, dropping herself down again and reaching into the cold water with an outstretched hand. She had reacted in time, just a moment later and the glove would have floated further down the stream and away.

Winston, torn out of his investigations from the comotion, came towards her and stopped where Alana knelt in the cold, wet earth of the riverbank, and only now realizing what had happened mere moments ago, what she was holding in her hand.

Releasing a shaky breath, she hesitated to look in earnest, as if worried it would all turn out to be an apparition and that the half-frozen thing currently dripping water down her sleeve was in fact just an odd shaped leaf.

Winston however left no space for doubt; taking a thorough sniff of the glove in Alana’s hand, his ears flopped forward as he jumped, releasing an excited yipp and wagging his tail. Alana allowed herself a moment of hope, examining it closely - and yes, there, sewn on the inside was a scrap of white cloth with the embroidered initials W.G. in a lovely green thread she had herself picked out before Grandma Bloom gave Will the gloves two years ago, for Christmas. What were the chances?

An ugly little voice immediately tried to dampen the warmth that had begun spreading over her cheeks, Winston’s excitement somehow infectious; even if this was really Will’s glove, doesn’t mean he just now lost it. He vanished months ago, it could have only now thawed - she was pointedly not thinking ‘rotten’ - loose enough to float downstream, and from god knows where! 

However, Alana couldn’t let go of this, this chance, no matter how unlikely it might be that Will was alive and well after so long, somewhere up north and along the river.

“Wouldn’t you at least like some clarity?” she muttered in Winston’s direction. The dog looked at her, as if saying Do I really need to answer that? and Alana huffed, both at his expression and at herself.

She was really considering it, really considering turning around and leaving upstream right this moment, to follow a trail of… what exactly? A wet glove and a flicker of hope. “Ridiculous,” she breathed.

But Alana knew, if she didn’t go, she would never forgive herself; what if she would have found Will, brought him home, or at least definite news of her best friend’s fate? The what ifs would kill her in the end.

“Come on, Winston. We have to get home.”

The for now was left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it goes!


	5. Everywhere, so white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a slow, dignified pace that made it seem like she was floating over the ground, the Queen made her way towards what Will, until now, had thought to be the sky. 
> 
> Instead, it was just the front part of what appeared to be a castle made entirely of ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a disaster person who has decided to stop apologizing for the wild posting schedule here - right after this one:
> 
> I'm sorry, and I hope you bear with me! Just imagine me like a really old grandma sitting down and telling a story in parts, forgetting bits and pieces sometimes and then telling them backwards, catching up, and being pretty sure there is a moral in there somewhere, but we can get to that when we get to that!
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> xx

The sun had not yet risen when Alana snuck through the house, shoes in hand, toward the front door. Yesterday evening she had sat in her room for hours, trying to find a way to write an explanation for her parents and her grandma, without sounding like a complete nut. 

Needless to say, she failed - turns out that leaving to search for her presumed-dead best friend, based on a hunch and a soggy piece of wool doesn’t leave space for good reasoning. She had tidied her room before leaving, at least, pointedly ignoring that she didn’t exactly know when she was going to come back.

When she opened the front door, she almost fell over the furry heap sprawled across the matt.  
“Winston!” she hissed, in surprise but also to get the dog’s attention. “What are you doing here?”

Winston yawned leisurely and sprang to his paws, tail lightly swinging side to side, as if he knew they had to be silent. Alana sighed, looking at him. She could lock him in the Graham backyard but she knew he would find a way to follow her, so she decided to avoid the fuss altogether. 

“Fine,” she grumbled and gave him a quick scratch between his ears. “Let’s go.”

They swung by the Graham’s fence and Alana picked up the leash she knew was there, and tied it to her backpack. Winston shot her a look that could almost be described as accusing and kept to her side as if wanting to prove how unnecessary that was.

Together they made way to the river again, this time through the town and toward the pier where some residents had their boats tied up and secured, mostly the fishermen and some suppliers. Alana had been here with Will many times, his fascination with boats almost matching his passion for puzzles and mysteries, and his small sailboat had taken them through many a sunny day, providing an easy out for days when they wanted to escape a bit.

Winston increased his pace and stopped at the familiar vessel, waiting patiently for Alana to pull it close by the rope so he could jump in. Alana had thought through this on their way home yesterday; she would take the boat as far as she could upstream and on the way ask around for Will, until she found… something. That was the extent of her plan, for now, but she hoped the time sailing would give her opportunity to figure it out as she went.

The moves were familiar, as she had assisted Will so many times, and even though this was the first time she sailed alone, soon she and Winston were on their way north, glove stashed safely in her inner pocket.

*

The sled stopped and Will woke up with a start, which had him confused because he didn’t remember when he had fallen asleep in the first place. Once again his eyes refused to cooperate and take in his snow-covered surroundings, so he freed his arms from under the heavy pelt wrapped around him and ran a bare hand over his face.

His exhale flew into the air like smoke from a chimney, but he did not feel the cold that surely surrounded him. Will took a careful breath through his nose, but there was no sting in his lungs; it was fresh, yes, but it felt comfortable despite him lacking both gloves, and apparently having loosened the thick scarf around his neck at some point. Now it was hanging around his bared neck, and Will tugged at one end to slide it off completely, testing his curious numbness to the harsh temperature.

There was movement beside him and from the corner of his eye he saw the Snow Queen descend a few steps which had seemingly sprouted from the ground, the perfect height to climb out her sled. Without turning, she spoke.

“Come along, little Will. We have much to do.”

In a slow, dignified pace that made it seem like she was floating over the ground, the Queen made her way towards what Will, until now, had thought to be the sky. 

Instead, it was just the front part of what appeared to be a castle made entirely of ice. The sun was hidden behind a solid blanket of white clouds, nevertheless the castle gleamed and glistened in a blueish light, as if illuminated from the inside, making it look otherworldly, almost unreal. Scrambling out of the sled, Will followed, all the while staring up to the great entrance and its intricate carvings, hollowed out spaces housing vines, swirls, mighty bears and wolves in endless pursuit.

There were towers, spiraling into the sky like needles, their points looking just as sharp, and long, empty windows looking over the surrounding taiga. 

Never had Will seen anything this big, especially not back h-

He was ripped from his thoughts by the front gate shaking slightly, causing fresh snow to trickle down the sides like sand as it swung open slowly and with a sound like icebergs grinding against each other, eerie and unrelenting.

The Queen kept gliding towards the gate, and Will hurried to follow. It was just now that he noticed that she left behind no footsteps in the snow.

To his surprise, there seemed to be no one inside who could have opened the heavy doors. The floors smoothly transitioned from blinding white snow to translucent blue, solid ice as they entered a great hall. Will stopped once more, awe taking over and freezing him to where he stood.

The hall was more like a cave, the ceiling curved and impossibly high, supported only by few icicles that could not be thicker than his thigh. There was a massive double staircase across from the entrance which led to what had to be opposite wings of the enormous estate, and perfectly identical hallways framed by intricate arcades leading even deeper into the structure.

The temperature fell abruptly when the gate closed; this Will noticed, and he shivered at the sensation against the bare skin of his hands and neck. Apparently, his numbness to the cold only went so far.

The Snow Queen, however, shed her heavy coat and held it out, arm extended. Will, out of habit, took it from her, which earned him a raised eyebrow, closely followed by what could have been a smirk if it hadn’t passed so quickly. 

“Oh,” she said, inclining her head in a mock gesture of thanks which made Will feel concern for her neck; bowing like that, it looked terribly fragile under the weight of her crown. “If you insist… but you should know there are more sophisticated ways to be of service to me, here.”

Will blinked, confused. At that, the Queen’s mouth lifted only a fraction, making her look less like the beautiful ice sculpture she usually seemed. She turned her head towards the stairways and said: “Show him, Hannibal.”

*

The river had been wilder than Alana had anticipated. It had been a rocky ride through streaming currents, all the more powerful for the melting snow, creating rapid waters that Alana had difficulties managing.

Winston had plastered himself flat on his belly, with his paws beside his nose against one of the outer walls of the boat, while Alana hurried to adjust lines, correct the sails and generally avoid the rocky patches of the widening riverbed.

She had stopped for a moment, just to catch her breath and peak ahead, when she saw a figure at her left, waving from the riverbank. Just as she moved her head to see properly, there was a terrible noise and the boat began turning on its side.

There was nothing she could have done but grabbed her backpack in one and Winston’s collar in the other hand before the vessel capsized and they landed in the icy water, just narrowly avoiding the sails as they splashed flat onto the surface. Gasping from the sudden impact and the cold, Alana struggled to keep herself afloat, weighed down by her wet clothes and the heavy backpack. Winston was circling her once, twice, before making his way to the nearest shore - and there, there was that figure again, now waving with both arms before crouching at the shore to welcome the dog on solid ground. 

Alana followed, although slower, fighting against the current and the numbing coldness that was surrounding her relentlessly. She dragged herself and her load onto the riverbank, accepting a hand from the figure - it was a woman, dressed in light, sensible clothing. Under her wide sun hat, her hair was clipped away from her face and fell in tight curls over her shoulders.

“Here, take this,” the woman said, handing her the jacket she had been wearing, the other arm extended to accept Alana’s soaked one. She grabbed the backpack as well and let the water drip from it just beyond her shoes.

“Thank you.” Alana shook from the cold, despite the dry jacket. The woman looked at her with kind eyes, and her lips stretched in a warm smile. 

“Let us get you both dry, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where did Alana end up?


	6. Wonderful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not too far now,” she said, bringing them to a halt in front of what looked like a wild hedge cutting off the narrow path they had been threading so far. Confused, Alana had just contemplated how to formulate her question without sounding rude, when Winston gave an excited yipp and seemingly disappeared from sight, slipping between the thick branches and vines with unrealistic ease.
> 
> Bella chuckled lightly and turned to Alana. “He is a smart one, isn’t he?” With that, she herself took a step into the hedge and disappeared entirely. “Come on,” Alana heard her voice, muffled on what must be the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xx

The woman had walked in front, first along the river, then following a path lined with greening bushes and ever thicker growing trees, until the rushing of water was but a faint hum. They had shared comfortable silence, with only the occasional rustling or chirping interrupting it, but they had made haste: their hostess was compassionately aware of Alana’s chilly wet clothes. 

Winston had fared far better than her, Alana thought. He had shaken the majority of the water out of his fur and rolled around in the supple grass that turned the ground into a soft-looking carpet, adding a bit of mud back in there, for good measure.  
Now he was happily exploring their way, staying behind or running ahead to investigate, then waiting for the pair to catch up.

The woman bestowed kind smiles on him and touched his ears gently every time they passed each other. She had introduced herself as Bella, after Alana had wrapped herself more tightly into her borrowed jacket. 

“It’s not too far now,” she said, bringing them to a halt in front of what looked like a wild hedge cutting off the narrow path they had been threading so far. Confused, Alana had just contemplated how to formulate her question without sounding rude, when Winston gave an excited yipp and seemingly disappeared from sight, slipping between the thick branches and vines with unrealistic ease.

Bella chuckled lightly and turned to Alana. “He is a smart one, isn’t he?” With that, she herself took a step into the hedge and disappeared entirely. “Come on,” Alana heard her voice, muffled on what must be the other side.

Hesitantly, Alana held onto the collar of her borrowed jacket that hung from her shoulders like a cape with one hand, and raised the other to run her fingertips over the green leaves in front of her. She half expected her hand to just slip through, grasp on air, but no - the hedge in front of her was solid, non-magical and real.

Her fingers continued touching it lightly as she moved to where Bella had stood just moments before. There has to be a trick, she thought. She took another step, eyes trained on the sea of green when - yes, there!

She let her hand sink tentatively into the hedge, feeling it give in to what felt like a small corridor, obscured by young branches sticking out from both sides. She followed in small steps, feeling out her way, but when she stepped fully into the opening, there was another solid wall of leaves in front of her nose. 

“Here,” Alana heard Bella’s low voice from beside her, and took her extended hand, letting herself be guided through what she realized was a curved corridor with sharp turnings and the occasional wall of soft branches to pass through, further complicating finding the way out surrounded by ever the same shade of green.

When they finally passed through the last one, Alana felt as if she had been wandering the maze for hours when in fact it could’ve only been seconds. Wide-eyed, she took in the ‘other side’; it was a clearing turned into a meadow-like space, with a little house in the midst of an enormous garden full of various vegetables, fruit trees in neat little rows just visible in the back. And roses. So many roses, in every imaginable color and size.

“It’s so beautiful,” Alana said to Bella, who was standing patiently at her side, her lips once more pulled into a gentle smile.

“Thank you, baby. My husband will be pleased to hear you like it, he prides himself an awful lot on our garden,” she added, her tone turning conspiratory and coaxing a smile onto Alana’s face, which she noted with pleasure. “Shall we?”

“Oh, uhm. Yeah.” Alana nodded, the sensation of wet clothes against chilly skin returning once she started moving through the ankle-height grass and flowers towards the house, Bella’s hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Alana noted that she didn’t mind.

When they reached the house, Winston was already sitting on the porch, his tongue hanging from his jaws and his ears perked up attentively.

“Good boy,” Alana ran her hand over his head in passing, and followed Bella through the brightly red painted door. Once inside, her hostess lead her to the bathroom, explained the faucets in the old fashioned shower and provided Alana with a clean towel.

“I will leave some clothes for you outside the door so you can see what fits when you’re done warming up, okay?” Bella had once again placed her warm hand on Alana’s chilled shoulder, and as she nodded her answer and opened her mouth to say thank you once again, the woman added: “What kind of tea do you like?”

“Uh,” Alana stumbled through her own mind, suddenly unable to remember any sort of tea at all. “Uhm, I think chamomile will be fine, thank you.”

“Then I will make you my homegrown blend. Now off you go, in the bath.” Bella’s tone reminded Alana of her mother’s and she smiled as she closed the wooden door. 

Peeling off the cold, wet and heavy clothes took some time but soon afterwards Alana was fresh out of the shower, warm and dry, her hair wrapped in one of the soft towels Bella had provided her with, choosing something that fit her from the bundle of clothing the woman had left for her. Bella obviously preferred light materials and colors in her wardrobe; there were cream colored linen pants that stopped just halfway down Alana’s shins, and a barely green shirt with wide sleeves and fine flowers embroidered around the collar and bottom edge. 

Soft, off-white socks now muffled Alana’s steps along the gallery and down the dark wooden staircase leading her through a short hallway and into the open kitchen space where she heard pots clanging and Bella humming along to some unheard melody. As if sensing her presence, Bella turned around to face Alana lingering at the threshold.

“Please, don’t be shy Alana,” she said and gestured towards the kitchen island standing between them. “I want you to feel entirely at home while you’re here, please sit.”

“I feel like I have been saying nothing else to you, but thank you, Bella,” Alana accepted the steaming mug handed to her and squinted against the light that fell through the open window behind Bella, framing her with billowing white curtains and turning her almost into a silhouette. Still, she could see the kindness Bella all but radiated, despite the uneven lighting.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, honey,” Bella’s laugh was quiet but rich, like the hum of bees around a blossoming tree. “Tell me what you think about the tea. It’s a new blend, only my husband has reviewed it so far - careful, baby, it’s still hot!” she added, chuckling again as Alana took a sip and winced slightly when the amber colored liquid touched her lips.

“Wait, try this.”

Bella swiveled around and opened a little ice box located under the hanging cabinets to her left, retrieving a cake so small it could fit in Alana’s palm, wrapped in pastel crepe paper and covered with what appeared to be vanilla cream. She unwrapped it carefully while returning to where Alana was sitting and handed it to her.

“It is cold, it will soothe the burn. And it is delicious.” Alana could once again only wordlessly accept what was given to her and be baffled by the warm feeling coursing through her as Bella tucked a stubborn strand of hair behind Alana’s ear. Not wanting to thank the woman again, she listened to her humm that melody again and bit into the small cake.

Her eyes immediately closed at the taste and the pleasant coolth. “Strawberries!” she managed to gasp before putting the rest of it in her mouth, her eyes finding Bella already taking out two more from the box and serving them to her on a plate.

“Help yourself, baby. I always make too much anyway. Ah,” she exclaimed as Winston let out a short bark Alana recognized as the sound he made when someone new was approaching. “That must be Jack.” She threw Alana another conspiratory look and went to greet her husband. 

Alana remained in the kitchen, contemplating the plate in front of her. Winston barked again, and she could hear Bella speaking outside, with another voice answering her in time. For a while following that, there was silence. Alana thought they must be whispering, Bella telling her husband she had brought in more than one stray. Because wasn’t that what she was now?

Her sailboat was probably unsalvageable, given how she had just left it in the current. She had already kicked herself mentally while in the shower earlier; even if she found Will alive and well, he would probably kill her for sinking his boat. And on top of that, she was now left to continue her search without a vessel, on foot.

But here she was, in a kitchen filled with light and the faint smell of pines, sipping her tea and relying on the kindness of complete strangers. Somehow she seemed entirely at ease sitting where she sat, content to wait and see what would happen; in fact, her calm was what bothered her more than her circumstances - which in itself was unusual.

Alana took up her third cupcake and took a hearty bite, the taste of strawberries and vanilla still as intense and satisfying as the first time. If she stayed for a day, just to orient herself, maybe ask Bella for advice on how to continue her journey, if she stayed for a while… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Alana?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Bella entering the kitchen again, and behind her a man of robust build and an open, if tired expression on his face. It occured to Alana that she didn’t know what time it was, as she stood up to greet him. “This is Jack, my husband. Jack, this is Alana.” Bella came to stand behind her and placed both hands on her upper arms, squeezing her affectionately.

“Isn’t she just lovely?” she asked Jack, whose hand has taken Alana’s firmly but kindly and shaken it once. Alana was confused; she felt like a kitten that had wandered into their home.

“I’m sure she is,” Jack replied, turning to Alana then. “Hello, little lady. Has my wife been treating you well?”

“More than well, thank you,” Alana replied, returning the smile on Jack’s face with one of her own. “In fact, I think if she treated me any better, I might want to stay forever.”

“And wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Bella laughed, reaching over and grasping Jack’s hand, coaxing a chuckle out of him as well.

“Be careful what you wish for! You know,” he said, glancing at his wife, “Bella and I get visitors so rarely, I think she might actually keep you.”

Once again, Alana found she wouldn’t mind. She let it wash over her, the light in the kitchen, the taste of fresh strawberries, the sound of the leaves outside, mingling with Winston’s excited barking… It was so wonderful.

“Yeah,” she said, “wouldn’t that be fun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful what you wish for, Alana! 
> 
> Next up: what does the Snow Queen want with Will?


End file.
